


Not Alone, A Phrase With Many Meanings

by aph_aleks (orphan_account), michael_mxll



Series: PolyBeatles [6]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Angst, Demonic Possession, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Paul is scared, Ringo gets possessed by a demon ghost thingy, he knew something would happen :(, they should listen to him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-20 21:58:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19385431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/aph_aleks, https://archiveofourown.org/users/michael_mxll/pseuds/michael_mxll
Summary: John convinces George, Ringo and Paul to go to an abandoned mental asylum with him. Shit happens.-My friend Kiyan and I write this after pissing around on videocall, so don't expect anything less than shit writing (although it's not bad, exactly, just... mixed writing style), I wrote most of it.





	1. Chapter 1

“C’mon guys, it’ll be fun!” John exclaimed, waiting for the others to come to an ultimate decision, which had to be nothing less then ‘yes, John, let’s go!’ or he’d start crying. This would make them all feel bad. Operation: Plants. If Operation Plants didn't work, he'd have to go with straight up guilt tripping, Operation: Desk. Code names, obviously. 

 

“John,  _ what _ about that would be fun, exactly?” George argued. John’s face flashed with many emotions, some indecipherable but others clear, excitement, quite evident from the way his eyes shone, and then  a disappointed look as the younger finished his sentence.

 

“Please?” John whined, pouting at the others, trying to sway their decisions from no to yes, or even a maybe - that would suffice more than just a no. John hated rejection, even for the littlest reasons. Even if it was a no about going to an abandoned mental asylum

 

They never did anything together, all four of them, as they always had something to do. Obviously, John’s idea for ‘double-couple-bonding’ is exploring an abandoned mental hospital. Wow, fun, right? That was definitely a romantic getaway, I mean, they  _ could  _ be in some fancy restaurant or having a lie-in together. Nope, haunted places. John had a twisted idea of fun, but they loved him (George and Ringo also had fun exploring places like this, although they’d never admit it in fear of, well, the power of McCartney) - everybody did. 

 

Paul tried to make his argument, “John… you know I don’t like haunted places,” Paul said with a distinct shiver-like aspect to his voice, feeling slightly sick to the stomach. 

 

“I doubt that it’s really haunted, baby,” John explained to the younger curtly, only making Paul more worried. Seeing Paul’s obvious discomfort, the older sighed to himself.  He’d get Paul to go if it was the last thing he ever did (which it wouldn’t be, but whatever) - they  _ had  _ to do this, they just  _ had  _ to. For no reason. They had to.

 

“Even if it is, we’ll protect you Macca!” Paul’s expression lightened up a little, he knew that John and the others would protect him no matter what. Even if there was nothing to be afraid of, they were there to fight off any ghosts or demons, or- or even  _ witches _ , because  _ fuck  _ they loved him, a lot. Even if they were fake. As long as their Paul was happy, they’d do anything. That may sound like a contradiction, but who cares, right?

 

George sighed and looked at Ringo, hoping he would give a reasonable answer, “Richie, what do you think?”

 

“I  _ really _ couldn’t care less.” Ringo eventually replied after a long minute of contemplation, as there were many downsides to this, but also many upsides (they were hard to think of, but they were there). George became even more miserable than before.

 

George was, fairly quickly, becoming more agitated, scoffing, “Fine, we can go,” He looked to the others for confirmation, a very excited look took over John’s face as he took in what he had said.

 

John quickly rushed over to the younger while celebrating simultaneously, “Yay! Thanks George! You’re the best,” He almost yelled, choosing to lower his voice mid-sentence. He wrapped his arms around the younger and George nodded, smiling slightly, “Okay, okay, you can get off of me now,” He grumbled sarcastically, trying to hold back another smile but failing. He kissed John quickly before turning to Paul, taking his hands in his own gently.

 

“It’ll be okay, yeah? We’ll be there with you, we’ll protect you, princess,” He said, watching as Paul smiled at the familiar nickname that warmed his heart every time any of the others used it - it always bought him comfort, that nickname. That and Macca, the ones used most.

 

Paul looked questionably at John and pulled his hands back, “So when are we going?”

 

John thought for a second before he spoke once more, voice coming out unsure and more like a question than he really intended, "Tomorrow, maybe?" He looked to the others with wide-eyes and raised eyebrows, pleading with them, even though he already had his answer. 

 

The others nodded and smiled lightly at John’s enthusiasm, choosing to just accept it rather than make him repress it - he’d probably explode if he had to hold in his excitement, and so they never made him do that. In fear, of course. What else?

 

The rest of the day, John wouldn’t stop talking about it - every time one of the others bought another topic up, he found a way to link it into the conversation, even if the two topics were nothing like one another. This did _really_ annoy Ringo sometimes, because even he was a little apprehensive about the whole situation - of course he would be. John was _insane._ Absolutely bloody insane. That's why they loved him.

 

They only had to wait - what? A few hours? 

 

The next day came quickly, much to the other's discontent (at least John's bloody whining was over) - he seemed more… excited. Even more excited. It was closer, they could finally go. 

 

Paul was  _ dreading  _ it. 

 

John kept pestering the others to hurry the fuck up, kept practically yelling at them while they were getting their equipment - "John, seriously, shut the fuck up! We're getting ready. Patience is a mother-fucking virtue!" George shouted, making Paul shiver in fright due to the younger's yelling.

 

George immediately noticed Paul’s reaction as he started to tear up. “Oh my God, baby I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-” He was cut off abruptly. 

 

“No, it’s fine, it's just...” Paul started, sighing to himself. "What if we- what if we get lost? Or- or what if we get split up? Oh, God, lads, I don't- I don't want to go," Paul spoke quietly, voice rising in panic slightly as he finished the sentence - did he really  _ have  _ to? His worries went unheard by John, who tried to object to George's remark, making Paul want to shrink into the ground and never be seen again. 

 

"John?" George asked sweetly, turning to look at him. 

 

"Yes, dear?" John replied, a certain happiness to his voice. 

 

"Paul is upset and scared, so just  _ shut up  _ and pay attention to him instead, okay?" George almost yelled, wanting for Paul to feel  _ safe  _ and  _ loved  _ before this fucking  _ nightmare  _ began. John muttered something along the lines of 'sorry' before he hugged Paul, pulling him in close against his chest. 

 

"It'll be fine. We're here for you. We'll stay with you," He whispered in Paul's ear, kissing his cheek before he pulled away from the hug to kiss the younger on the lips softly, lips moving together in perfect sync - Paul just wanted to stay home and do  _ this  _ all day, kiss. Kiss his boyfriends. Not go fucking  _ ghost hunting.  _

 

“What even is the building, John?” Ringo asked, breaking the silence that had fallen upon the room a few minutes prior, making John and Paul pull apart (John cursed him for ruining the mood, but he'd get over it quickly, after all, they were going  _ ghost hunting!).  _

 

“I’m pretty sure it’s an abandoned mental asylum, Richie. Fun, yes?" John quipped before he could speak again, before any further objection. 

 

“Wait, you think?” George interrupted, raising his eyebrows at John in confusion, "Are you kidding me, John?" 

 

"No! No! I know. I know it is. Trust me." John smirked, "Trust me."


	2. Chapter 2

 

"We're here, lads." John smiled as they pulled up in front of a large building, a building that looked like it could turn into fucking dust any second. God, how long had it been abandoned for? 

 

“Fuckin’ hell,” George exclaimed

 

"Want me to finally tell you all what happened here and why it's abandoned?" John asked, smirking back at the three, well, two, since Paul was sat in the front, with him. 

 

“No, thanks!” Paul blurted, covering his mouth as soon as the words escaped him, his face reddening with embarrassment. 

 

"Uh, yeah?" Ringo added, ignoring Paul's objection. Of course they wanted to know! Who wouldn't want to know? At least then they'd know what they were dealing with in a place like that! Fucking  _ hell.  _ No,  _ literally _ , it probably was. 

 

"Okay, so," John started, rubbing his hands together like he was an evil supervillain. Ha, imagine that! It would make sense, though. 

 

“John, please don’t,” Paul pleaded, already scared to even be at that place, the place that John loved so fucking much, apparently - the place that they were at right now, sat in the car outside, "Please."

 

"Oh, c'mon Paul, please?" George tuned in to the conversation, staring at Paul with wide eyes and a hopeful look - he really wanted to know, and evidently, so did Ringo. Of course they wanted to fuckin’ know! Who wouldn’t? They had to know who or what they were dealing with, and if Paul didn’t want to know then he could cover his ears or something - actually, that was a good idea, covering his ears.

 

“I- but- fine,” Paul sighed, giving up.

 

“Yes!” John pumped his fist in the air, “Okay, so… This used to be a mental hospital-”

 

Yeah, they knew that - John would not stop fucking talking about it, fucking hell.

 

“The patients here were tortured for being gay and having mental illness - they were  _ tortured _ -” John carried on speaking, not noticing as Paul winced and started tearing up, the tears threatening to spill at any given second - what the  _ fuck? _

 

“Some - no, most - of them died, and people say their spirits still haunt this place,” He whispered the last bit of the sentence to add atmosphere to what he was saying - Ringo smiled in delight, God, this stuff was interesting, he was kind of glad that John was so eager to go. Paul’s reaction was completely different as he heard what John was saying - what he was stating - he began tearing up more so than before, a frown adorning his face. He let out small whimpers as he stared at the building more, assessing every window, every door, ever possible exit - they were  _ really  _ going to do this?

 

John was about to speak again, but Ringo shushed him, covering his mouth with his hand, “Paul, are you okay?” He asked, motioning towards Paul, looking back at John with a scowl, “You know you don’t  _ have  _ to do this, right?”

 

Paul nodded and wiped his eyes with his sleeve, “Y-yeah, I know… but I want to-”

 

“Because you want to impress John?” Ringo cut in, looking between the two once more, watching as John’s eyebrows raised and Paul flinched again, frowning more.

 

“Okay! Let’s go in now!” George spoke loudly, breaking the tension that had settled itself upon them like a heavy blanket, pushing down on them - he was always there to break that tension. Sometimes he felt as if that was the only reason he was there. No time for that, though, thinking about that, he realised that when John practically squealed in happiness. Paul didn’t look so happy, not looking up at any of them, instead he looked at the floor when they left the car, like it was the most interesting thing ever. 

 

Paul looked up in shock and then froze in place, eyes widening once more, “Did any of you just see that?”

 

“What’re you on about, love?” George asked, wrapping a hand around his over his shoulders as a way to comfort him, though he didn’t know what the hell the older was talking about.

 

“There was someone in the window!” Paul exclaimed, pointing at a window on the side of the building.

 

“You are just seeing things, you’re overreacting, come ‘ead,” John kissed Paul’s cheek and stalked off to another part of the building, presumably to find a way in. By the way he screamed ‘lads, get the fuck over here!’ and waved his hands in the air, he had found an entrance. The other three tentatively made their way over to him, walking slower than John would have liked - they did get there eventually, looking into a broken window John had found. There was still glass, but in only a few select places around the edges of the window - it’d be safe to climb through if they were careful enough. Hopefully. 

 

John made it through first, a swift entrance, then George, who helped Ringo over (because he was short as fuck) - only Paul remained on the other side, on the verge of trembling with fear. He still did not want to do this, but he basically had no choice. 

 

“Come on love, I'll help you up” John reassured, offering his hand for Paul to use to pull himself up, but Paul didn’t move and backed away slowly, the building sending a shiver up his spine to stay permanently - God, that feeling was terrible.

 

“Oh come on Paul - stop being such a fucking pussy all the time!” John taunted angrily.

 

Paul then looked at George helplessly, tears beginning to cascade down his face like a waterfall, like some broken tap, as John stormed off further into the building. That damned building. “W-wait John I-” He cried out, taking a step closer to the building as he watched John storm off. 

 

“Fuck off!” John turned around and yelled back at him before turning back away. He disappeared into the darkness, leaving the other three stood awestruck by the broken window. He seemed genuinely angry, but why? Paul hadn’t done anything wrong - God,  _ what had he done wrong?  _ His world was spinning. John, come back, John, I love you - these words would not form, his lips would not form any words as he stood there, staring into the darkness.

 

Once again, he looked down at the floor.

 

“Paul? He didn’t mean it, okay? He didn’t.” Ringo climbed out of the window and hugged Paul close, his arms wrapped tightly around the younger in a protective embrace, but Paul pushed him away lightly only a mere few seconds later.

 

“I’m fine, I-I’m-” He was finally able to speak, but his stuttering was back - he hated that stutter, “I’m sorry,” He sobbed, letting Ringo hug him once more, not pushing him back this time. He gave up trying to escape, slumping against the older, breathing uneven. His heart hurt, his head hurt, his everything hurt - he wanted John to come back, wanted John to hug him, wanted John to comfort him, but  _ no,  _ he was off inside the building somewhere.

 

“John, you fucker! Get back here!” George shouted down into the hallway, torn between chasing after John or comforting Paul, he ultimately decided on sticking with his initial thought, to chase after John and probably yell at him because Ringo seemed to be comforting Paul well.

 

“John!” He yelled again, rolling his eyes. He ran into the darkness too.

 

Paul and Ringo were left outside, “Do you want to go in, baby?” The older asked, pulling away from the hug to stare into Paul’s eyes as he asked this. Paul nodded, albeit still scared and still crying - he could do this, he  _ could.  _ He had to face this, he had to face John and the pain he would feel when more words like that come from his mouth. He knew that John didn’t mean things like that, he just got… angry, sometimes. But it was fine, he could deal with it.

 

He was about to climb in through the window, but noticed some blood on the sill of the window - it didn’t seem new. It didn’t seem very safe.

 

Paul had started to climb in the window when he heard a loud bang - that made him hurdle himself into the building out of fear and shock, almost tripping and falling as he did so. The bang wasn’t close but it was still loud, and fuck, it scared the shit out of him - what the fuck was that?

 

“Are you okay, Paul?” Ringo asked, worried, as he went to help Paul stand up straight from how he was hunched over. 

 

“I’m okay, don’t worry,” Paul replied, leaning against the wall for a support for a short minute. Soon, they ventured further into the building, holding hands - they ventured further into the darkness and the increased danger, what were they getting into?

 

“John! George!” Ringo yelled out, checking in every single room - well, they were practically holding cells, small rooms with different numbers and letters on them, probably the name; number; of the patients who were admitted to their stupid facilities - the other two were not in a single one of them. Richard’s voice echoed as he yelled, which only worried Paul more, what if someone heard them and called the police? They’d get arrested. That would be bad.

They walked into a large room that had tables and chairs scattered everywhere, like they’d been pushed down and wrecked. They probably had, judging from the type of people that were admitted here ages ago. John had never told them when this was abandoned and when it was built, it could have been fifty years ago, could have been twenty years ago, hell, it could have been five years ago - he never told them. Maybe he didn’t want them to know.

 

“Paul? Do you think you could carry this bag for a minute? My shoulders hurt,” Ringo said, motioning to the black backpack that was on his back - Paul forgot that they had that. It contained a camera set up and a ouija board, and something called a spirit box? He had no idea what the latter was, but the former two were obviously familiar to him. He nodded and took the bag from the older.

 

They carried on walking.

 

“I don’t like this place.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I hate it.”

 

“I know.”

 

Silence.

 

Next to that room was another, just a little bit bigger - and George and John. They were there, they finally fucking found them! And they were- they were making out against the wall. Paul should have guessed.

 

“You’re both assholes.” Ringo said as he took the bag back from Paul, placing it on the floor next to the other two, his voice obviously startled them because they both jumped and their kiss broke, a long line of spit connecting them.

 

“Holy shit! Don’t do that you asshole!” John wiped his mouth clean.

 

“You’re calling me an asshole? You guys just up and left us on our own! And don’t even get me started on you, John!” Ringo sighed, annoyed. He pulled Paul closer to him.

 

“What? What have I done?” John spluttered, genuinely confused on what he had done. Was it bringing them here? Because they seemed to want to go willingly, in the end.

 

“You called Paul a pussy just because he probably didn’t want to come here in the first place and stormed off like some edgy fucking teenager! And now he is probably having a panic attack the size of your fucking ego!” Ringo shouted as a reply, face red with anger, his body almost trembling.

 

“Lads, stop fighting!” Paul’s shout had filled the entire room and everything went silent - that was the loudest Paul had ever yelled before, which meant he was really annoyed, Paul was never that pissed off - the tension was back.

 

John sighed. “Look, Macca - I’m really sorry for what I said earlier. I just wanted to come here so we could have some fun exploring but if you want too, we can leave?” He spoke sincerely, suggesting they should leave if he really didn’t like it out of sincerity - he meant it. If Paul wanted to leave, they’d leave.

 

Paul silently nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah, I- I want to leave.”

 

John nodded in understanding. He took a hold of Paul’s hand, first, and hugged him close, a physical apology for what he had said - he was truly sorry, after all. He never meant to say that, he never meant it, he never even thought it - he just… said it.

 

It wasn’t until they were back at the holding cells or whatever they were that they realised - Ringo wasn’t with them anymore. (Dun dun dun!)

 

“Ringo? Ringo, love, where are you?” John called out, stepping back a little to see if he’d gone into any of the rooms. Paul felt a rising panic within him until he couldn’t breathe properly - where the fuck was Ringo? What if he was fucking dead or something? There could be someone else in the building with them, wanting to hurt them or something - what if Ringo was hurt?

 

They looked around for a few minutes but found themselves slumped against a wall, merely calling out his name instead of actually looking - they hadn’t given up, but they were fairly tired from everything that had happened so far.

 

There was a bang at one end of the hallway, and then another at the other end.

 

Paul then heard a distant shuffling sound coming from further down the long hall and then- and then a groan. “Lads, this way,” Paul directed, instantly knowing what that was. 

 

The three of them went in deeper in an attempt to find Richie - their Richie. They couldn’t lose him, they just  _ couldn’t  _ \- he was so fucking important to the other three. George was faster than the other two and managed to get to where the noise was coming from quicker, stopping in his tracks when he finally saw Ringo, stood in the centre of a small room across the end of the hall, where one of the bangs came from.

 

“Richie! Are you okay?” Paul asked, wrapping his arms around the older and squeezing, only to be pushed back and against the wall.

 

“Get the fuck off me, queer,” His eyes flashed pure black and they bored right into Paul’s soul, sending a body-wracking shiver up his spine - another one. Oh, fuck.

 

It wasn’t  _ their _ Ringo.

 

“R-rich?” He tried once more, stepping back towards him, attempting to take a hold of his hands, “Y-you okay?” He asked again, just wanting everything to go back to normal. Ringo’s hands grabbed a hold of his tightly,  _ extremely  _ tightly, and Paul whimpered in fear, trying to take his hands back. “I said,” Ringo - no, that  _ thing,  _ said softly, his voice increasing in volume, “Get the  _ fuck  _ off me!” And then Paul was pushed against the wall once more, a hand wrapped tightly around his neck. He struggled against that hand, against Richard Starkey, who they had known for  _ years,  _ who they’d been dating for  _ years,  _ who they all loved. This couldn’t be him- this couldn’t be Ringo. His strength was much more than before, an almost  _ inhuman  _ strength now settled within him.

 

“Fuckin’ hell!” George yelled, trying to pull Ringo away from Paul, and in a way, it worked, but now this thing was targeting George - it pushed him away, almost all the way down the hall, without even  _ touching  _ him, it simply stuck its hand out and George was stumbling back.

 

John then punched this  _ thing _ to the ground before _ it  _ could do anything else, “What the fuck are you doing, Richie?” He screamed, trying to punch him -  _ it -  _ again, but he was also blown back by a force, the  _ demon,  _ or whatever the fuck it was, pushed him back without touching him, like he did so with George.

 

“Who’s Richie? My name is  _ not  _ that,” The thing said, in Ringo’s voice, with Ringo’s appearence - it did not deserve to be there, in Ringo, in  _ their  _ Ringo - fucking hell,  _ he was possessed.  _

 

Paul sat against the wall with his eyes closed tightly and his ears covered, knees held tightly up against his chest - he couldn’t move, fear had overtaken his body, his mind settling with only one emotion -  _ horror.  _ Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! This couldn’t be happening - this could  _ not  _ be fucking happening. Not to them, not to their Richard Starkey. It just couldn’t.

 

It was.

 

It was really happening and Paul desperately wished he could just wake up and be safe in bed with his boyfriends who he loved and adored, all three of them - why couldn’t this just be a dream? Wake up, wake up, wake up-

 

He was lifted up again, by Richard -  _ not  _ Richard. The younger began to choke and splutter once again, he desperately clawed at the hand on his throat, trying so hard to get him to let go - “Explain, vile human, why am I here?” The entity spoke, but not just with Ringo’s voice. There were multiple voices while it spoke, at the same time, all a different pitch, Ringo’s voice was there, among them. God, they wished it wasn’t among the other voices - it shouldn’t have been. It should never have been.

 

“He can’t fucking talk while you’re choking him!” George yelled out, wanting him to let go of Paul, seeing Paul in pain was literally the worst fucking thing ever.

 

“P-p-please let g-” Paul barley choked out before losing air again, he then felt a sharp relief as the demon obeyed and dropped him on the floor. He fell and sat on the floor, his breathing short and shallow as he tried to get air into his lungs now that he actually could - his throat hurt so fucking bad, the demon had dug its nails into the skin of his neck.

 

“I’m J-John, George here and I did a- we did a ritual- we didn’t think it would work!” John spoke up, not wanting Paul to speak yet. He rushed over and helped Paul up, his arms snaking around him. He protected him, against his chest, Paul hid his face there and began sobbing harder against him, trembling like a leaf. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-

 

He clenched his eyes shut and tried to block everything out, all he focused on was John’s increased heartbeat and his cologne. A familiar smell. He wanted to go home.

 

Figures of white, see through shades, some green and some blue appeared next to the demon, all looking emotionless and completely still. They flashed for a few seconds before they seemed solid, like you could touch them, and then they flickered away again, “Not only have you awoken me, you’ve awoken all of them - you’ve  _ disturbed  _ them all.”

 

“W-we’re sorry please forgive us, we didn’t mean to anger you or anyone else!” George begged, pleading desperately, “Please just let us have Richie back! Please, we’ll do anything!”

 

“Anything?”

 

“Yes! Anything! Please!”

 

“Then let me have a- a  _ go,  _ with that pretty thing you’ve got. Him who I blocked air from,” He used Ringo’s finger to point at Paul, who was now sobbing harder after hearing that coming from that  _ thing  _ \- surely, John and George wouldn’t let that happen?

 

“You can- you can fuck one of us! Just not- not him, please!” John chimed in, holding Paul against his chest closer, not wanting anybody to fucking touch him every again, “Please,” John found himself to be crying - hot tears running down his face - so was George.

 

“No, no, you said  _ anything,  _ human. I want  _ him.”  _

 

And then George and John were running, running as far as their legs would carry them, John had lifted Paul up into his arms and was carrying him, as he knew he wouldn’t be able to run - John was strong, he’d be fine… as long as Paul was safe. He’d do anything to keep him safe.

 

“What about Ringo?” George questioned, yelling at John, who was running beside him, panicking as much as he would. Seriously, what the fuck was happening?  _ What the actual fuck? _

 

The three of them then hid in a nearby forest after escaping the building through a different window to catch their breath. “Did we- did we lose them?”

 

“I hope so,” John replied, running a hand through his hair - he let Paul down from his arms, but the younger’s legs wobbled as he tried to stand, and then he fell to the ground. John was about to help him up when someone else grabbed him -  _ something  _ else. 

 

“You can’t hide from me, foolish mortals. You’re mine!” He cackled evilly, hands tightening on Paul, who struggled and writhed in his hold.

 

“St-stop, you’re hu-hurting me, pl-please-”

  
“Oh, am I, pretty thing? Good, that’s what I intended,” He replied, once again in Ringo’s voice, just to toy with them - just to hurt them more,

 

“Let go of him!” John yelled as he punched the demon straight in the face - he dropped Paul to the ground once more, and George rushed over, helping him up and hiding him against him just like John had when they were inside the building. John punched him again, again, again and again until Ringo was passed out on the floor, face bleeding.

 

“I see that you care about this other human. I have no purpose here.” A voice -  _ those  _ voices, spoke again, but from somewhere else in the woods, seemingly inside their heads.

 

Ringo’s face snapped back to normal, the blood completely disappearing and the bruises reversing so they were never there - he was back to normal. Oh, fuck. 

 

“Ringo? Ringo, is that you?” George shook Ringo, kneeling beside him and shaking him violently.

 

“Wha- what happened?” He asked, then the memories washed over him suddenly - that wasn’t him, he would never do that, “Oh, God, I’m so sorry- I’m so fucking sorry-” He began crying, and then all four of them were crying, all together, huddled on the ground.

 

“That wasn’t- that wasn’t you… It’s not your fault-” Paul choked out with a raspy voice, throat feeling extremely sore.

 

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” John said calmly

 

The four of them made their way to the car and started to drive away. 

 

“Oh shit, we left the bag.” John realised.

 

“Oh shit indeed.” George replied, intertwining his hand with Paul’s and then Ringo’s - Ringo’s hand rested on John’s thigh as he drove. Everything was okay. Maybe it wouldn’t be okay for them mentally, for a while, but they were okay, they were back in the car together, a comfortable silence filling the car. Paul fell asleep feeling warm.

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

[my tumblr](https://panic-vertigo.tumblr.com/), [kiyan's tumblr](https://pizzagayboy.tumblr.com/)


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